


Ice Cream Headache

by wheel_pen



Series: Viridian Mal [36]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fish out of Water, Gen, Imprinting, Vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ice cream does not agree with Mal, being a dairy product.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice Cream Headache

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Viridians appear human, but are actually aliens who imprint on other people (Viridian or otherwise) and form a bond with them. They also live their entire life cycle in about six Earth years.
> 
> 2\. In each series, a different character is a Viridian, who was raised by mean Klingons on an outpost. An Enterprise crewmember is captured by the Klingons and they inadvertently form a bond with the Viridian, who helps them escape. Then they return to rescue the Viridian and bring them aboard the Enterprise. The Viridian homeworld is contacted and the Enterprise crew learn the Viridian will most likely die if they are sent away. So they end up staying on the Enterprise, and the crewmember has to adjust.
> 
> 3\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

            "Mal, I really think we should go to Sickbay," Hoshi repeated worriedly.

            "Oh dear, are you sick?" Mal inquired, gazing at Hoshi earnestly. So earnestly, in fact, that he walked right into the wall instead of turning the corner. "Ouch! Look at this, Hoshi, someone's put a _wall_ here! I wonder if Trip knows about this. You know, people shouldn't go around building walls on a ship without consulting the Chief Engineer..."

            "Uh, Mal?" Hoshi interrupted tentatively. He swung around to face her, almost knocking himself over in the process. Hoshi quickly steadied him. "I think maybe _you're_ the one who's sick."

            "Me?" Mal repeated incredulously. "But I feel _spectacular_! It's just that this deck plating seems a bit wobbly today..."

            "Let's go to Sickbay." Hoshi tried to steer him but Mal resisted.

            "No, no, no," he insisted, lurching in another direction. "I have to go back to Trip. I have to go back to Engineering. Lunch is over, you know. Can't slack off, you know. Trip needs my help. D'you want some ice cream?" He stuck the half-eaten cone in Hoshi's face, narrowly missing her nose.

            "Um, no, Mal, thanks," she told him dubiously.

            "More for me, then," he shrugged, taking a big lick. "I wonder if Trip likes ice cream. I bet he does. I shall bring the rest of this ice cream to Trip. In Engineering," he decided generously. "Unless of course I eat it first."

            Together Hoshi and Mal headed to Engineering, Mal providing the power and Hoshi the navigation. She felt confident that when Commander Tucker got a look at the state Mal was in—whatever state that was—he would drag him to Sickbay personally. She just hoped whatever he had wasn't serious... or contagious.

            "Here, hold this," Mal said, handing Hoshi the remains of the ice cream cone. He waved both hands in the hair and shouted, "HELLO, TRIP!!!!!" On the platform before the warp core, Trip glanced up from a serious-looking discussion with one of his crew, smiled briefly without really seeing Mal and Hoshi, then went back to his work. Mal frowned with his hands on his hips. "I guess he didn't hear me," he commented to Hoshi.

            "He looks kind of busy," Hoshi tried. "Maybe we should go to Sickbay and call him from there..."

            "Oh dear, are you sick?" Mal asked her worriedly.

            "No, Mal, I think—"

            "Oh, good then." Mal scrambled up a piece of metal scaffolding and executed what would have been a fantastic and dramatic back flip onto the warp core platform—if his balance hadn't been off, leading instead to a fantastic botched landing on the warp core platform, followed by a dramatic tumble down the stairs back to the main deck. "Funny, that's never happened before," Mal noted, lying at the bottom of the stairs.

            This, Trip definitely noticed. "Mal! Are you okay? What the h—l were you doin'?!" he demanded, kneeling beside the other man. Mal started to giggle and Trip glared at him. "Come on, get up—"

            "Ow!" Mal gasped when Trip touched his arm. Then he giggled again. Trip rolled his eyes and moved to help him up again. "Ow!" Mal repeated, more forcefully. Followed by more snickering.

            "Well does it hurt or not?" Trip snapped.

            Mal nodded, trying to look sad, but he couldn't stop laughing. "It really hurts," he insisted, chortling.

            Trip sighed and glanced around, seeing Hoshi hovering over Mal as well. And she was holding something. "What is _that_?" he asked sharply, nodding at the dripping cone.

            For a wild moment Hoshi thought there must be some kind of rule against bringing food into Engineering which she was now violating. "Ice cream," she answered in a small voice, although really this was hardly the time to worry about such minor things.

            "Ice cream," Trip repeated dully.

            "It was dessert at lunch," Hoshi added quickly.

            Trip rubbed a hand over his eyes tiredly. "How much did he eat?" he asked with resignation.

            "A couple bowls," Hoshi admitted reluctantly. "Plus... this." She held up the leftover ice cream cone, which was more like milky soup in a soggy cone. "He really seemed to like it."

            "I _love_ ice cream!" Mal reported, giggling happily. "But not as much as I love _you_ , Trip!"

            "Well that's good," Trip told him, hauling Mal up from the other side. "'Cause you're not eating any more ice cream. Ever." Mal started to whine, the whine turning into a whimper of pain as he moved his arm. "I'm goin' to Sickbay for a while," Trip informed the staff who had been gathered around. "Come on."

            "Why can't I have any more ice cream?" Mal complained as he was propelled into the hall. "I love ice cream. I love chocolate and vanilla and mint and strawberry..."

            "He can't have milk products," Trip told Hoshi shortly as she trotted along behind them. "It's like alcohol, gets him drunk."

            "He didn't say anything about that!" Hoshi pointed out, a little defensively. She would never knowingly let Mal eat something that would hurt him.

            "Mal, you know you can't have milk," Trip reminded him with something stronger than exasperation. "What are you doin', stuffing yourself with _ice cream_?"

            "Is ice cream made of milk?" Mal inquired innocently. "Owwwww... I can't eat things that are made of milk, you know."

            "Yes, I know," Trip replied with a sigh.

            By the time the three of them reached Sickbay, Mal had stopped giggling. Trip had thought that would be an improvement, but Mal's whimperings of pain were worse. "My arm hurts," he repeated, cradling it to his chest. He gazed at Trip with those soft, wet eyes, as if Trip had the power to fix a body the way he could fix an engine.

            "I know, buddy," Trip assured him. "That's why we're going to Sickbay."

            Of course the Captain was standing there talking to Phlox when they finally pushed through the doors of Sickbay. Mal was beginning to sniffle, and Hoshi wasn't looking too professional either. "What's going on?" Archer demanded immediately.

            "I don't feel good," Mal moaned piteously.

            "Took a flying leap down the stairs," Trip expanded. "Hurt his arm." He helped Mal maneuver onto the nearest biobed as Phlox ran his scanner over him.

            The doctor looked up at Trip sharply. "Commander, have you been giving him milk again?"

            "Ice cream," Trip admitted.

            "Trip!" Archer admonished.

            "It was _my_ fault, sir," Hoshi spoke up. "I let him have the ice cream. I didn't know he couldn't have milk products." She deposited the soggy cone in the nearest waste receptacle, flinging it from her as though it were a bloody weapon.

            "It was _my_ fault, sir," Trip corrected firmly. "I guess I forgot to point out to Mal that ice cream has milk in it."

            "I can't eat things that are made of milk," Mal sniffled, clutching Trip's sleeve.

            "I know, buddy. I'm sorry."

            "I'm afraid it's broken," Phlox reported, setting the scanner aside. "A clean break, fortunately. If you could help me with his shirt, Commander..."

            "Owwwwww..." Mal protested sorrowfully as Trip and Phlox tried to remove his black pullover.

            "I know, buddy," Trip told him soothingly. "I know it hurts. But the Doc's gonna fix you right up, and then we're gonna go home and take a nap, alright?" He gave Mal a little smile and the other man nodded but didn't smile back.

            "I don't feel good," he said again, everything about his voice and posture desolate and mournful.

            "It's okay, buddy," Trip assured him, rubbing his other arm while Phlox ran the osteo-regenerator over the purpling bruise on Mal's arm. "You'll feel better soon, I promise. We'll go home and take a little nap next, okay? Then what do you want to do? Hmmm? When you wake up and feel better?" Mal sniffled in response. "You wanna watch a movie? We could watch a movie, something with singing and dancing in it maybe. Would you like that?" Slowly he nodded his dark head.

            "I am _so_ sorry," Hoshi told them earnestly. She looked almost as distressed as Mal.

            "It's okay, Hoshi," Trip replied, glancing back at her. "I should've explained things better."

            Archer stepped in to prevent his friend from having to do double duty in reassurance. "It's not your fault, Hoshi," he repeated firmly. He was about to say more when Phlox spoke up.

            "Commander, you may want to step aside—"

            "What?" Trip asked, looking at the doctor in confusion. He turned quickly back to Mal, who had a hand on his stomach and a wide-eyed, alarmed expression. Trip guessed too late what Phlox meant and had only just started to back up when Mal heaved a stomach-full of half-digested ice cream in a variety of flavors all over Trip's uniform.

            "I'm sorry," Mal mumbled, hand over his mouth.

            Trip let out a long breath of air. "It's okay, buddy," he replied, swallowing hard. Mal leaned forward and dropped his head on Trip's shoulder and Trip's hand came up to rub the back of his neck.

            Hoshi also had her hand up to her mouth, more than a little green around the gills. Barely tamping down his own nausea, Archer added to her, "Maybe you should go back to your station now, Ensign." She nodded and exited quickly.

            "You feel any better?" Trip inquired of Mal, who shook his head against Trip's shoulder.

            "No. I'm sorry..."

            "Don't worry about it. I'll... wash."

            "There we go," Phlox announced cheerfully, tying the cloth sling at Mal's neck. "Shouldn't take too long to heal, with Mal's metabolism. Bring him back in a few hours, when he's sober," the doctor added to Trip. "I'll do a more thorough examination."

            "My arm hurts," Mal murmured again.

            "Can you give him a painkiller or something, Doc?" Trip requested.

            Phlox shook his head regretfully. "I don't believe that would be prudent given his current condition. Perhaps in a few hours..."

            Trip nodded his understanding. "Okay, buddy, time to go home. Watch your step there." Trip steered Mal around the puddle on the floor, containing what little regurgitated ice cream hadn't ended up on Trip.

            "You need a hand or anything?" Archer offered. Generous, considering the smell in the immediately vicinity of Trip and Mal.

            Trip shook his head, one arm around Mal's waist, Mal's good arm slung around his shoulders. At least on _this_ trip Mal seemed able to walk mostly on his own. "I think we'll be okay," he replied. Trip knew he had caused this mess; no one else should have to help him take care of it. "Oh, Captain?" he added reluctantly, trying not to stop Mal too suddenly, "about the rest of my shift—"

            "I'll let Engineering know," Archer assured him.

            "Thanks, I'll make it up."

            The Captain wanted to tell Trip not to worry about it, but he had the feeling it wouldn't do any good. Trip spent half his time in Engineering anyway; the idea of him 'making up' a shift was a little ridiculous as far as Archer was concerned. But he could see this wasn't the time to argue semantics. "Let me know if you need anything," he called after them.

            "Thanks, sir."

            Trip had often considered moving his quarters closer to Sickbay in the last few months. It would certainly cut down on travel time. And the number of crewmembers who could stare at them. Not that Trip felt he didn't deserve it. G-d! How could he be so stupid? Ice cream! Chef hadn't served it in a while, but Trip should have known Mal would head right for it when it came back on the menu. How could he have forgotten to mention it?  Mention it, h—l—Trip hadn't even _thought_ of it.

            Finally they limped back into their quarters and Trip sat Mal down gently at the desk—facing _away_ from the computer, just in case he was sick again—and quickly turned down the bed. "Okay, buddy, come on, in you go," he said, trying to sound upbeat. Hurriedly he unfastened Mal's boots and pulled them off so the other man could swing his feet onto the mattress. He was already starting to shiver. "Just turn on your side there." Trip pulled the blankets up as far as he could. "You still feel sick?" Mal nodded, eyes doleful and damp. "Okay, you just get up and go to the bathroom if you think you're gonna throw up again," Trip reminded him. _And just in case you don't make it..._ he added to himself, tapping at the comm panel. "Tucker to Maintenance."

            " _Yes, Commander?_ "

            "I need a... bucket in my quarters. ASAP."

            " _A bucket, sir?_ "

            Trip glared at the comm. "On the double."

            "Yes, sir!"

            While he was waiting for Maintenance to arrive Trip kicked off his boots and started to remove his uniform. Of course the zipper for the whole thing was all down the front... along with the ice cream vomit. Trip steeled himself, took a deep breath, and grabbed the wet zipper tag, pulling it down quickly. He wiped his fingers off on the fabric as he stepped out of the jumpsuit, deftly turning it inside out on the way to prevent any drips, then stuffed it immediately into the laundry chute. It would be automatically bagged and deposited in the laundry facilities, though Trip didn't envy the crew who finally ripped it open for cleaning and were treated to the smell of soured milk.

            Of course Maintenance arrived before Trip could yank on anything else, and he didn't dare wait as Mal was looking a little bug-eyed again. He tried to open the door, grab the bucket from the bemused Maintenance crewman, and shut the door again as quickly as possible—although the rather obnoxiously bright blue Starfleet-issue skivvies were hard to miss, even in a glimpse. Well, what was one more bizarre story circulating among the crew about him, he shrugged.

            "Here you go, buddy," he told Mal, setting the bucket on the floor near the head of the bed. "You don't think you're gonna make it to the bathroom, you just use this, okay?" Mal looked dubiously from the bucket to Trip, his frown deepening. "It'll be okay," Trip assured him, although he wasn't sure in what _way_ it would be okay. Puking in a bucket was puking in a bucket—pretty unappealing all around.

            Shaking his head, Trip stood and dug out a pair of pajama pants for himself. "You want me to sit there with you, or you feel too queasy?" he asked Mal as he pulled them on. Mal sniffled wretchedly and reached his good arm out to Trip.

            Carefully the engineer climbed into bed behind Mal, trying not to jostle him too much. "I'm sorry, Trip," Mal told him again, miserably.

            "Shhh," Trip replied, stroking his hair soothingly. "It's my fault, I didn't tell you about the ice cream."

            "Well, I didn't have to eat so _much_ of it, did I?" Mal countered bitterly. "I mean, that much of _anything_ might make a person sick... Plus..." he added in a tiny voice.

            "What?"

            "...I thought it kind of tasted like milk."

            "Oh, for G-d's sake, Mal!"

            "Well, I wasn't _sure_ ," Mal protested. "Melted cheese kind of tastes like milk, but it's okay to eat." He sighed. "I could have asked Hoshi, though."

            "Well, now you know," Trip pointed out, too tired to be mad at anyone, including himself. Funny how a little unexpected excitement could wear a fellow out—it was barely past the lunch hour and Trip felt like he'd been up for at least a couple shifts straight. "Let's try to get some sleep, okay?"

            "Okay."


End file.
